


A Love Of All Things That Grow

by rustling_pages



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas Grows A Garden, Dean Needs to Use His Words, M/M, Miscommunication, Self Confidence Issues, fallen!cas, sad boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 16:11:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14168628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rustling_pages/pseuds/rustling_pages
Summary: What Castiel does, after over a year of drama that didn’t give him time to get used to being human, is start a garden.Entry for the 2018 Tropefest Mid-Winter 5k.





	A Love Of All Things That Grow

**Author's Note:**

> Super excited to finally get to post this! Had it sitting around since January... (Keeping this under 5k was HARD.)  
> Hope you enjoy! :)

What Castiel does, after over a year of drama that didn’t give him time to get used to being human in a less apocalyptic, more domestic setting, is start a garden.

Technically speaking, that patch of land behind the bunker probably belongs to it, but it has clearly never been tended before. The soil isn’t so much humus as it is sand, and the concrete of the underground building begins only a few inches below the surface. There is enough sunshine, but by far not enough rain, and the winters are very likely too brutal.

Sam encourages him with kind words and a book about gardening he specifically bought for Castiel. This kind of behavior makes sense, as it is a primary aspect of his personality.

Dean tells him it is a stupid idea, and his rant includes, “Who’s even going to take care of this thing when we’re not here?” Except he sort of pauses between ‘when’ and ‘we’re not here’. He is also the one who takes Castiel to a garden market in one of the larger trucks found in the garage and insists on carrying the heavy bags of rich dark soil, even though it almost throws out his back.

He also buys two sets of gardening aprons – one blue, one green – and gloves. When Castiel points out he will likely only need one, Dean just grumbles something unintelligible, and tosses the garments into their shopping cart anyway. His ears are kind of red, and when Castiel points this out, Dean threatens to leave him stranded here.

To be honest, Castiel could have stayed a bit longer. Not that Dean isn’t patient, as much as he’d deny it. It is, in fact, the overly considerate way Dean busies himself with things he clearly has no interest in to give Castiel more time to thoroughly inspect things, that makes Castiel feel guilty for ever coming here.

Let alone for taking almost half an hour just to ponder over the different seeds there, to consult Sam’s book on the choices of trowels, to ask one of the helpful employees what type of watering can he should get.

She is actually a very nice and pretty young woman, but Dean never even flirts with her. Castiel doesn’t know what to make of that. Maybe Dean simply doesn’t find people who garden very ‘sexy’.

Though he does tell Castiel to grow some lettuce and tomatoes, because “that shit, you can actually put on a burger.” Castiel, of course, has to confess to him that tomatoes are beyond his current capabilities. But he does select a very large number of lettuce saplings.

In the end, Dean sends him to get the truck closer, and Castiel later understands this to have been a ploy to stop Castiel from seeing how expensive it all is.

He has offered to pay his own share of the household amenities on multiple occasions, even spoken about maybe getting a job at another Gas ‘n Sip, but Dean has very empathetically disagreed with this plan, and Sam, too, has insisted he does enough just by helping them out on hunts.

Sam has very often spoken about how useful Castiel still is to them since he became human again. It is very nice of him, though Castiel suspects he may exaggerate by a lot. Dean usually just grunts when the subject comes up, and then walks out of the room, and always objects when Castiel wants to come on hunts with them. So even if it isn’t mere kindness on Sam’s part, it is not a shared sentiment between the brothers.

In fact, Castiel thinks Dean might be relieved about Castiel taking up gardening, because it will give him an excuse to tell Castiel to stay at the bunker and not get in the way. It’s probably the only reason Dean is begrudgingly helping him out.

Castiel, on the other hand, not only likes the prospect of aiding plants in their growth and strife for life, he also thinks this may be a way to provide something useful for Sam and Dean, after all.

It also justifies staying at the bunker rather than making his way in the world on his own, as at least Dean might prefer. He does not feel good about this deception, but as much as he feels like a burden, he’d rather not leave the Winchesters to fend for themselves.

Their communication has clearly not improved much.

* * *

It is early spring when Castiel decides to start a garden. The sun is still building up strength on the few occasions it peaks out from a near endless cover of grey clouds. Another reason why gardening is the project Castiel chose, is getting to spend time above ground. But never seeing the clouds from above while soaring through endless light-drenched blue still makes him feel rather claustrophobic, so he is grateful for every single bit of visible sky. Fleeting as it might be.

This issue aside, it is a good time to start his garden, seeing as there are many things he needs to do before he can sow seeds and plant saplings.

To begin with, he measures out precisely how large he wants his garden to be. Among their acquisitions are several long wooden poles which should at a later point help guide the plants towards the sky. Now, he uses them as markers for the different zones he plans on making, and connects them with tough twine. It forms a makeshift fence and gives him a clear visual to work with.

“This isn’t even a right angle,” Dean tells him, and corrects some of the poles. For some reason, he spends a lot of time observing what Castiel is doing. Possibly, he doesn’t trust Castiel to get it right on his own, in reflection of the many mistakes he has made in the past. Though those were on a much larger scale than vegetable beds.

What Castiel does next, is he takes off the majority of the sandy layer above the cement of the bunker. He still leaves two inches as a solid covering, then fills the rest up with a large amount of the soil they bought.

He likes this work, the sheer physicality of it. He isn’t wearing his coat for garden work, as it would drag on the ground, rather a brown leather jacket Dean insisted he buy (and now won’t look at him in, presumably because he looks ridiculous wearing it). After he has emptied the first two sacks of soil, and has spread it evenly with a new shovel, he is hot enough that he has to take it off. Underneath, he isn’t wearing the customary two layers of flannel, but simply a loose white t-shirt.

Possibly this is the reason why Dean immediately turns around as soon as he spots Castiel this unclothed in the relatively chilly March air.

Still, it doesn’t feel as cold while he is working, and he manages to distribute the rest of the soil as well in the course of the afternoon.

When he comes back inside, he still only has the jacket slung over one shoulder, and he’s still breathing rather heavily from the exhaustion. It really must be quite offensive to Dean, as he actually goes kind of red with anger while muttering ‘Geez, put some clothes on, dude.’

Castiel takes a shower first, trying not to let the day’s contentment swirl down the drain along with his hopes for a slightly better reaction from Dean. In the mirror, he also noticed he was quite streaked with dirt, which might have played a part in Dean’s discomfort. Dean is a very clean person, when he can afford to be. Castiel washes his shirt and jeans out before putting them in the hamper.

He comes back out in the necessary layers, but Dean still won’t look at him, and his ears are still red. Neither Castiel nor Sam point this out, though Castiel catches Sam shaking his head a little. Possibly he has spoken to Dean about Castiel’s inappropriate clothing choices. Honestly, Castiel doesn’t quite understand why most of the rest of the modern western world can wear single layers and they can’t, but he figures this is not the time to have this conversation. They eat their meal in silence.

* * *

Thankfully, the hardest part of physical work is done, and the rest is simply making the soil dense enough for plants to be able to take root, and not too dense for them to be able to grow comfortably. The bags came with the claim of it being ‘The Best Soil For Your Plants, Enriched With All The Minerals You Could Ask For!’, and Castiel decides to trust this marketing until his plants tell him otherwise.

He takes the poles out and spools the twine back up, and in their places, he divides the different beds with pebbles, as well as lays out a small pebbled path to easily walk between them. There are several future flower beds, some for vegetables, and one he is particularly excited about, which is a small, rocky herb garden. In the weeks leading up to this, he collected some of the best and most suitable rocks from the surrounding land, and now he is laying them out to form a nice spiral.

Dean doesn’t come to watch him in the two days it takes him to do this, but the morning after he completed the spiral, it has obviously been slightly corrected by someone, and he has a strong feeling it wasn’t Sam.

“I think I am ready to begin planting tomorrow,” he tells them both at the dinner table that night, and he can’t take the pride out of his voice entirely.

“That’s amazing, Cas! I’m sorry I haven’t been by to see how it’s going, I’m kind of in the middle of a really vital piece of literature written about Rougarous, and it’s entirely in hieroglyphs,”, he actually looks rather exciting at this prospect, “But maybe I can help you a little tomorrow?”

“Thank you, Sam, that won’t be necessary.” Castiel smiles, and tries to phrase it as neutrally as he can. “Dean has been checking my progress quite regularly, and even helped me achieve greater symmetry.”

Sam raises his eyebrows at Dean. “Oh, has he, now.”

To which Dean, to Castiel’s astonishment, goes beet-red and mutters, “Shut up and eat your salad.”

Castiel wonders if he will ever understand social interaction in the 21st century.

* * *

Against Castiel’s expectations, Dean is outside with him for most of the day. Mostly just to insist Castiel put his apron on this time – the blue one, as Dean shoves this one at his chest.

When they were out for the gardening supplies, Dean also bought quite a few planks of wood, and now Castiel sees why. Apparently, there were suitable tools in the bunker garage, and Dean starts hammering away at a project of his own, while Castiel does a last scan through Sam’s book, and sets saplings and seeds on their designated spots. It is time for the saplings to have some fresh ground to work with, as much as Castiel has been taking care of them, but he isn’t quite ready to plant them until he is completely sure everything is where it will have the best chances at growing well.

He only looks back up from this important work when Dean holds out a beer to him.

“So,” he says, “looks like you’ve got everything set up.”

They clink bottles, the way Castiel has learned is customary when imbibing alcoholic beverages, and then takes a sip. He is surprised how much beer has grown on him since he became human. Despite the many centuries of careful cultivation of this tradition, the initial impression Castiel had of beer was less than overwhelming. But now the bitterness feels refreshing, and he finds he’s quite thirsty.

“Slow down, cowboy,” Dean says and pats his shoulder. “You don’t want to do this drunk.”

“Yes, of course, Dean.”

He slows down a little, and tells himself to bring a water bottle out with him tomorrow. Though it is quite nice to have Dean think of this and share this moment with him.

“This patch over there,” he’s now saying, and pointing to the far end of the garden, “that empty?”

“There are some radishes planned.”

Dean frowns a little, and Castiel quickly adds, “Unless you object, of course. I’m sure I can find another spot for them.”

“Nah, I mean… It’s a good spot for radishes, whatever the hell those are, but I think it’d be better if you kept it empty.”

Honestly, Castiel doesn’t quite understand why Dean would say this, but he doesn’t wish to disrupt this nice moment between them with an argument. He hesitantly nods. “Of course, Dean.”

Dean seems to notice his reluctance anyway, because he looks a little guilty, even as he smiles very brightly at Castiel. “It’ll be good. I promise.”

* * *

After this break, Castiel begins the actual planting process. Dean didn’t have any more objections to the layout, even looked a little proud of Castiel as he explained where everything would grow. Though he clearly only had a very vague idea of what most plants actually were. The only thing he honestly knew his way around was the herb garden, and this, he approved of highly.

Castiel takes this rare praise and the warm feeling it evokes in him, and focuses it all on the seeds and saplings he presses into the dark earth. He doesn’t know if it truly is a fact that plants grow better when they are loved by their gardener, but he does seem to have an awful lot of it to spare, and he figures maybe just this once, it can’t hurt to love something with all his heart. Maybe this, he can nurture rather than destroy.

Thankfully, there is an outside water supply, and he has filled a large basin, from which he now takes small amounts at a time to pour over the freshly planted vegetables, flowers and herbs.

He is finished with roughly a third of the garden, when Dean appears behind him. He only watches, and Castiel tries to funnel all the emotions he feels at being so close to this man into the tiny bulbs he is planting.

“What are those?” Dean eventually says, and his voice sounds softer than usual. Castiel almost closes his eyes at the sound.

“They’re snowdrops. They likely won’t bloom until the end of next winter, but I rather like them.”

“Next winter, huh?” Dean sounds contemplative, and Castiel finishes his work.

Afterwards, he stays on the ground for a moment, simply resting his hands over the place where the flowers will grow. Then he gets up.

Dean is standing close, but he isn’t stepping back. 

There are things Castiel has grown quite used to, now that he’s human. Urination, for one thing, as annoying as that is. Needing sustenance and actually enjoying the taste. How wonderful rest is, and how much of it he requires. He has not grown used to his body’s physical reaction to Dean. Sometimes, he thinks his heart may break his rips with how violently it beats when he is near. This is, of course, anatomically impossible.

“Hey, I-…” Dean begins, then looks down and frowns. “Why aren’t you wearing your gloves?”

“I enjoy feeling the earth on my skin,” Castiel says, and maybe he says it too quietly, because it makes Dean take in a deep breath, and step back.

“Anyway, uhm,” he shakes his head as if to clear it, “I need your help with something.”

And Castiel still has two thirds of a garden to plant, but he follows Dean anyway. Only to stop short, because the project Dean has been working on all day is a bench.

It’s hardly a masterpiece of human carpentry, but it makes his eyes shine anyway.

“I thought you could use a place to sit down in your garden,” Dean says, and doesn’t quite look at Castiel.

Castiel gulps. Says nothing. Takes a deep breath. Still can’t say anything.

“It’s why I wanted you to keep that one place empty.”

Dean actually sounds insecure now, and if he’d appreciate physical affection from Castiel at all, Castiel would take him into his arms and never let him go. But because he wouldn’t, all Castiel can bring himself to utter is a rough, “Help me carry it over there?”

It looks beautiful. It seats two people. Castiel imagines all the green that will grow around it.

It takes him a long time to finally say, “Thank you, Dean.”

But when he turns around, Dean has already gone back inside.

* * *

He tries to bring it up at dinner, but Dean waves him off with a grunt. He seems embarrassed. Castiel understands he may have misread the meaning of the gesture.

Most benches seat two people. It doesn’t mean two people will be sitting there.

* * *

When everything is planted, the amount of work Castiel has with the garden grows less. Despite this, he spends as much time outside as possible. The empty spot on the bench, he fills with books. Sam’s gardening book is there, of course, but also every bit of lore he can find that might help the Winchesters on their hunts.

He offers to go along with them, of course, but Dean tells him he should take care of his plants instead.

Castiel waters his garden, and tries to let only his love seep into the ground, not his sorrow.

* * *

One case turns into three, and he is alone at the bunker for more than a month. The person calling him is predominantly Sam, and Castiel appreciates his kind inquiries over his garden more than he can say.

He tries to keep his descriptions of the green peaks of leaves to a quantity that won’t eat up too much of Sam’s time, but the longer they’re gone, the harder it is for him to stop talking. Colors begin appearing, the first blossoms hesitantly greet the more frequent spring sun. The sky bursts open, and it makes the days pleasantly warm, and the nights so cold he gets up once a night to make sure the temperatures don’t drop below the freezing point.

There is much to talk about, and Sam is a good listener, even if he may be far less interested in Castiel’s stories than he conveys.

When they finally return, Sam is the one who practically drags Dean to the garden, and is very exuberant in his praise of Castiel’s work.

As proud of it all as Castiel is, he wishes Dean would say more than a gruff, “Looks great, man.” He also wishes Dean hugged him like Sam did as a greeting, but he supposes he should be grateful he even gets acknowledged at all. After all, he was hardly helpful to them while they were gone.

* * *

It goes back to normal not long after that. Dean begins looking at him again, even smiling, and talks as animatedly as ever during their meals and movie nights.

So Castiel allows himself to feel more confident as well, and finally, to even bring up a conundrum he has been facing.

“Between what I have planted, more plants have taken root, and they grow almost faster than the ones the soil was intended for.”

“Yeah, pretty sure those are just weeds, Cas.” Sam points out with a shrug. “Didn’t the book say to pull them out?”

“It did. I am, however, unsure what gives me the right to decide which plants deserve to live and which to die.”

“Oh, come on,” Dean mutters and rolls his eyes, and Castiel wishes he’d kept quiet. Sam shoots his brother a dirty look, but clearly, he also doesn’t quite understand what Castiel’s problem is.

“I know it’s difficult, but if you don’t do anything against them, they will take all the light and nutrients from the ones you actually want there.”

Castiel nods, and doesn’t say that he never wants to play God again. That this is too much responsibility. That every living creature has more of a right to make this choice than he does.

He doesn’t pull out the weeds.

However, when he gets to his garden a week later, they’re all gone. When he looks for where whoever did this left them to die, he finds a messily planted patch of soil a few feet away from his garden.

He doesn’t wish to embarrass Dean again, and doesn’t thank him for this either. But if flowers do grow taller with the love given to them, every single plant in his garden, and the little patch of weeds, will defy gravity.

* * *

As spring turns into early summer and some of his fruits begin yielding results, and others need a trim to allow enough sunlight through for all plants, Castiel needs to use his gardening tools more and more often. He also finds himself growing less and less organized, possibly because he sweats too much in the three layers he’s still wearing to keep Dean from growing disgruntled with him again.

Sam visits him often, and even brings him water or some of Dean’s sandwiches when he spends too much time outside, but the only time he sees Dean is when he gets his tools from the garage where Dean works on cars.

It’s cool down here, despite the growing summer heat, and Dean never comments on Castiel’s clothing, so at least he must be doing this right.

* * *

And then Dean actually joins him outside.

Two days ago, he asked Castiel if he needed anything from the garden market, and as much as Castiel wished he could simply go with him instead, he figured maybe Dean wanted to flirt with that nice blonde employee after all, and Castiel would only be in the way. He gave Dean a humble list, and then felt bad as Dean took it with barely repressed frustration. It was likely only a curtesy, and Dean only meant to get things for his own project.    

It’s painfully reminiscent of the short time they spent outside together while Castiel planted flowers and Dean built him a bench to stop him from coming inside so much. Castiel makes a point not to watch him as he checks the ground for dried-out patches, waters what needs some extra attention, and cuts of a few sprigs of the herbs Sam needs for a spell he wants to try.

Dean doesn’t drink his beers with Castiel, but he does leave him one every once in a while. Just at the edge of the garden. As far away as possible from where Dean is working.

Castiel is grateful, but they make him feel heavier rather than refreshed, and sometimes, he wishes Dean would just stop. He never sits on the bench while Dean is outside. He doesn’t think he could bear it. Instead, he hides among the tall stalks of sunflowers.

* * *

This goes on for over a week. It’s getting harder to miss what Dean is building, and it appears to be some sort of shed. Castiel wonders what it is for, but doesn’t dare ask. They don’t communicate outside, and inside, it seems the subject of his garden has become taboo even to a previously oblivious Sam.

* * *

It’s a shed for his tools.

So that he doesn’t have to go inside and bother Dean in the garage.

This part, Dean doesn’t say, of course, while he’s stuttering and mumbling through an explanation.

“It’s so you have all your stuff in one place,” he says, ears red and clearly very uncomfortable. “I put in some hooks and everything.”

Castiel doesn’t trust himself to speak for a moment.

“I understand,” he says finally, and as much as he tries, he cannot keep his sorrow from his voice.

And like he’s been waiting for it, Dean throws his hands up in the air, and asks, “Okay, what’s wrong with a tool shed, now?”

Castiel really should get a grip on his feelings, but his next words still come out flat and defeated.

“Nothing, Dean. It’s very thoughtful.”

Dean isn’t in his garden. Even when he came close enough to announce having finished the shed, he stayed just outside. Castiel has never understood the concept of borderlines, but the beginning of green is one. But it’s not one Castiel can hide behind anymore.

“I get why you’d hate the damn bench,” Dean rants, bizarrely, “but what the hell do you have against this? It’s useful. It’ll safe you a lot of walking back and forth.” And getting in Dean’s way.

“Dean, I-…” And Castiel finds he is too tired of this dance at last. “You can just say it. Please. It’s not like I don’t deserve worse.”

Dean, of course, pretends not to understand what Castiel is saying.

“What?”

“I know I have blindsided you with this garden. And I admit, it was subterfuge on my part. Clearly you have seen through it. And if you truly want me to leave despite it, I will.”

Dean comes closer, a deep frown splitting his beautiful brow.

“What are you talking about?”

Castiel sighs deeply.

“As you know, I have used this garden as an excuse to stay with you and Sam. My use to you has grown insignificant to the point where I’d just be in the way during a hunt, but I thought if I could at least do this, you might not ask me to leave. Grow some helpful plants for you. Something beautiful to look at. Something out of the way.”

Dean’s mouth is half-open, but he isn’t making a sound, so Castiel goes on.

“And I understand. I understand the bench is so that I don’t have to come inside to rest. The tool shed is so that I don’t bother you in the garage. You wish to spend as little time as possible with me, and I understand. I wanted to keep an eye on you, as little good as that can do anymore, to at least know when you’re not safe, when to be worried about you. It is-… creepy to you. You don’t want it, and I should have respected that.”

Dean still isn’t saying anything, though he has, inexplicably, stepped closer.

“I appreciate your kindness. You let me stay for this long. You even replanted the weeds so that I didn’t have to kill anything, after all the blood I’ve shed. But I can take a hint, Dean, despite what little social skills I have.” He knows enough not to use air quotes now, at least. “If you wish for me to leave, I will pack my bags today.”

“Cas…” He is so close now – he has stepped over the borderline like it never even existed – and his words are so soft, and Castiel knows this is it, this is when Dean confirms it’s what he and Sam wanted all along. But he has to say one last, desperate thing. Just because the thought of not being close enough to die for them if need be, is still as unbearable as ever.

“But if you’ll let me stay, I promise, I will try my best at tomatoes. It may be a little late for planting them, but I think you can buy half-grown plants, and simply tend to them within your gar-…”

Dean lets out a shuddering breath and kisses the last syllable off Castiel’s trembling lips.

His hands are on both sides of Castiel’s face, suddenly. Warm, rough skin laid gently over his stubble, his ears, the beginnings of his sweaty hair.

His lips land precisely on Castiel’s, as if he’s thought about kissing him a million times. Even mid-sentence. Even mid-goodbye.

There isn’t a lot of movement. Dean’s lips simply cover his, in a sweet, firm press.

It lasts a long time, becomes shared breath and a lightness much like flying inside Castiel.

When Dean finally draws back, it’s not far, and he doesn’t let go of Castiel. His words are wobbly, his wonderful eyes vulnerable. And Castiel may have gotten everything wrong until this point, but this, he cannot misread.

“I love everything about your garden.”

Castiel is the one to catch his lips this time.

* * *

There isn’t much of a point in tending to a garden during a winter as hard as this one. It’s only after the snow has mostly thawed that they even step outside of their cozy room to survey what is left of it.

There are the dried up sunflower stalks, of course, bent and their flowers picked empty by hungry snow birds. Some of the herbs still stand. Rosemary and thyme are much more resilient than you’d think.

Castiel points out the cheerful little snowdrops to Dean, who immediately lights up behind the scarf Castiel made him for Christmas.

“Oh those! They’re my favorites, I think.”

“Mine, too,” Castiel hums.

Dean hands him a beer and sneaks in a quick kiss rather than clinking the bottles. They sit down on the bench side by side, and take a long look at the winter-sleepy garden.

“We got a lot of work to do, huh?” Dean muses as he brings the bottle to his lips.

Castiel smiles.

Inside the tool shed, two aprons hang covering each other, and they’re not both for Castiel.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is borrowed from 'The Fellowship of the Ring'. I felt if anyone is allowed to be likened to a warm and nurturing home, it is Castiel.


End file.
